


Fortune Favours the Bold

by libraryv



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Fortune Cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libraryv/pseuds/libraryv
Summary: Strike and Robin + Fortune Cookies + a game = fluff.Only rated Teen+ for a Cormoran-cursing moment, and for what most of the conversation alludes to, but honestly, this is straight-up fluff. ❤
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65
Collections: Cormoran Strike Valentine’s Day 2021 Prompt Meme Fun





	Fortune Favours the Bold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoomBar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomBar/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [DoomBar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomBar/pseuds/DoomBar) in the [Cormoran_Strike_Valentines_Day_2021_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cormoran_Strike_Valentines_Day_2021_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Eating Chinese takeaway and reading the fortune cookies got me thinking about the silly trend to add “in bed” at the end of your fortune for an entirely new meaning.  
> 🥡🥠🥡🥠🥡🥠  
> I’d like to see this scenario plan out with Robin and Corm where the “in bed” part forces them acknowledge the tension between them. 
> 
> They could be alone or with friends. 🤷♀️ It can end with a change of subject or lead to a ratings change.🤷♀️ Where it goes is up to you!

“She still hasn’t answered.”

Strike put his mobile back on Nick and Ilsa’s kitchen table face-up, so he could see the screen. It remained frustratingly blank.

Nick studied him. “Don’t look so worried, mate. There’s bound to be a good reason.”

Strike took a healthy swallow of his beer, nodded, and said nothing.

There was a knock on the door, and they heard Robin’s cheerful voice.

“Delivery!”

“It’s open, Rob!” called Ilsa, and within moments, Robin appeared with bags of Chinese takeaway, laughing as she untwined the scarf from her neck. 

Strike had risen without thinking. He had made it across the kitchen in a few strides, and had Robin in a bear hug, cutting her off mid-sentence as he lifted her slightly off her feet. 

“Jesus, Ellacott. I was worried.”

He released her and she laughed, breathless from his squeeze. 

“I know, I know! But he was watching me like a hawk and I couldn’t exactly pull out my mobile when I was pretending mine was lost. And then afterwards, I checked my battery and it was just about dead, and I’d left my charger at the office.”

She lifted her chin, beaming. 

“I got his admission, though. The whole thing.”

Strike grinned at her. 

“You bloody genius. I knew you would.”

Her cheeks coloured prettily at the compliment, but the confident triumph in her eyes was beautiful. He realised his hands were still at her waist, and he stepped back. 

“Well I brought dinner, anyway,” declared Robin, smiling. 

*****

It was an easy, leisurely evening. Nick had an early shift the following morning and went to bed early, but insisted they stay downstairs and finish the wine. Ilsa remained with Strike and Robin, catching up with them for about an hour, then drifted upstairs to check on Nick. 

Strike was feeling warm and content. The fireplace was on, Robin had got the admission they’d been after, and she was currently sitting on the couch next to him. 

He gestured to the unopened bag of fortune cookies that had come with their food.

“Shall we try our luck?”

“Yeah, give us one,” said Robin, and caught the small cookie that Strike tossed over to her. She turned it over in her hands.

“Have you ever played that game where you add the words, “in bed” to the end of your fortune?”

He scoffed a laugh.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

She chuckled. 

“Thought as much. Do you want to try it now, just for fun?”

“Go on, then.”

She cracked the cookie open and read the piece of paper out loud, a grin pulling at her mouth before she had even reached the end. 

“ _You are very talented in many ways_...in bed.”

Strike smiled fondly at her as she dissolved into giggles.

“I have no doubt,” he said solemnly, which set her off again. He reached over and took another fortune cookie from the bag. He cracked it open neatly in one hand and pulled the paper from it, reading it silently before looking up.

“ _Your aims are high, and you are capable of much._ ” He raised his eyebrows. “In bed.”

Robin burst out in proper laughter, and Strike looked mock-affronted. 

“You doubt my prowess?”

Robin threw him a saucy look. 

“If we ever have a drunken, passionate night, I’ll get back to you.” 

Strike grinned and leaned back with a casual air, scratching the scruff at his jaw.

“I’ll make sure to earn a good report.”

She gave his shoulder a playful swat and reached into the bag for another cookie. She opened it, reading, and Strike allowed himself the luxury of watching the firelight flicker on her skin, the shadow beneath her collarbone, the curve of her throat. 

“ _Your own needs must be met before helping others_...in bed.” She blushed, and Strike wondered, not for the first time, just how attentive a lover Matthew had been. 

“Well that’s just good advice for your partner, really,” Strike joked.

“Let’s hope my next one takes it,” she lobbied back, blushing even harder.

There was a transient, shimmering quality to the evening; something between them, here in the glow and warmth, was shifting. Strike could sense the door of possibility suddenly open in front of them. 

He opened the next one, read it, and held up a hand. “For the record, I disagree with this one.”

She had already begun to smirk, as he read, 

“ _You are too rushed. Slow down, take your time-_ ”

Robin was laughing openly again, and it was contagious; he chuckled out the rest. 

“In bed.”

She took a breath, giggles subsiding as she sat back again.

Robin’s eyes were on him, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that when she had leaned back, she had settled comfortably against him.

He tested the waters by throwing a casual arm along the top of the sofa behind her.

Robin curled herself further into his side, and hope barreled through him. 

“A couple more?” he suggested, wanting to stretch out the promise of the moment. She nodded and reached forward to grab another cookie.

“Is it my turn, or yours?” she asked, holding it out on her palm. 

He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t care less. 

“Yours,” he said at random, and Robin nodded, breaking the cookie and reading the paper. Her lips parted, and she took a breath as she read out loud.

“ _Act now, worry later._ ”

Robin put a hand on his thigh and lifted her eyes to his, and Strike felt a thrill in the certain knowledge that this was it. This, right here, nestled on Nick and Ilsa’s couch, cushioned by the warm ease of friendship: _this was the moment._

He shifted, angling his body towards her. She mirrored him, a soft smile on her lips.

He let his arm drift down, then settled it around her waist. He was aware of every movement, his heart cataloging each step as he moved closer and closer to the edge of the precipice he had been waiting on for years.

When he had allowed himself to picture this, it was marked by some milestone moment, some meaningful gesture, some clear declaration of feeling. 

This wasn’t grand, by any means. 

But it was still perfect.

Robin was looking at him, her eyes shining. 

“Your turn.”

“What’s my fortune, Ellacott,” he said, and leaped from the precipice; his hand smoothing up the side of her body, settling warm and gentle at the back of her neck before threading softly into her hair.

“Fortune favours the bold,” whispered Robin, and he kissed her.


End file.
